


Coaster Park

by FogsRollingIn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Paramedic Dean Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Psychic Sam Winchester, Season/Series 01, Unrealistic Working Hours for Paramedics, Unrelated Winchesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 09:35:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12956415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FogsRollingIn/pseuds/FogsRollingIn
Summary: Coaster Park had been experiencing an unusually high frequency of technical difficulties. Dean wouldn't have pulled a shift treating nauseated, heat-stroked, or dehydrated park-goers for that if he could've helped it, but when 'technical difficulties' were accompanied by rumors of things moving and stopping on their own in front of the operators' eyes, Dean had to throw down.No historical tragedies or disasters in the area, ectoplasm, or EMF. Dean's only lead was a battered-looking kid that'd been coming to the park every day since it'd all started.





	Coaster Park

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [coaster park](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12855855) by [stormbrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormbrite/pseuds/stormbrite). 



> ::slides into the deadline for SPN Reversebang with just hours left::
> 
> Thank you so much to stormbrite & the SPN Reversebang mods for being so patient & chill with me!

 

* * *

 

Dean first saw the pale, ragged-looking kid wearing a backpack, wandering around the concession area. He stood out, considering how tall he was, but Dean brushed it off: college-aged, looking for a goofy summer day at a cheap amusement park like Coaster Park with old high school buddies, probably - wherever they were. Backpack full of booze they’d managed to smuggle in. The only thing that really set him apart was how badly his clothes fit and how miserable he looked - _pulling off a great impression of most Coaster Park employees_ , Dean laughed to himself.

Dean shoveled the last bite of his hot dog in before wiping his hands and getting his stuff together off the picnic table. His lunch break was just about up, and he needed to make it back to his ambulance they’d stationed just outside the emergency exit of the park. It was coming up to eleven in the morning on a sunny day during a Texas heatwave: perfect time for oblivious parents to force already-woozy kids to eat nasty cheese nachos in the sun and vomit or pass out.

Dean’s favorite.

He wasn’t just there for the nacho cheese poisonings, though. The past couple days, Coaster Park had been experiencing an unusually high frequency of technical difficulties. Normally, Dean wouldn’t be there for that either, but for how his mother could stomach the presence of their town’s premiere gossip, widowed Mrs. Hurley, and discovered one of the employees - a local teenager - had sworn up and down her ride’s safety controls had unlocked mid-ride right before her eyes.

 _“Praise Jesus, the ride just came to a sudden stop. 'Course, there might be a few whiplash lawsuits but nothin’ else. I wouldn’t bet on that place anymore from now on, though. Safety controls just_ unlocking _themselves-? Mary, you spread this far and wide too, honey. This ain’t right.”_

So, Mom had called him about it, and so… here Dean was, idly patching up dehydrated and heat-exhausted people while keeping his eyes and ears out for any further ‘spooky’ shit they might need to make a move on.

By five o’clock, Dean’s shift was over and he had a couple leads - two of the rides had been suspended that day.

Coaster Park didn’t close until eight so Dean took a shower, threw on a pair of khakis and a button-down, and headed back over around twenty after six. It was dusk, and the crowd was waning - many more people filtering out of the park than in - and Dean strolled up to… Justin… at the ticket counter.

“Hey, man,” Dean grinned, leaning against the counter. Justin looked up from his phone and Dean waited for recognition on three, two, one…

“Oh-hi! Wow, not in uniform now, huh?”

“Nah, off-duty.”

“We got discounts for public service workers,” Justin offered cheerfully. 

“Ah… yeah. Okay. Let’s do that, then,” he sighed. He’d been thinking he’d get a supervisor to find him the staff he needed to interview, but then again what were the odds these kids would tell the truth with their boss watching them?

* * *

“No-no-no, it hasn’t just been the safety locks,” a girl - Katie - the first person Dean was interviewing that seemed like she knew what she was talking about, said. He’d caught her at a water ride admittance station that had no one in line since it was getting cooler for the evening. “It’s been other stuff. Random shit getting caught in the grinders, the controls reversed direction for the swing-whirl once. That really freaked Dylan out…” she added like an afterthought. “But no. It hasn’t been isolated to just one mechanical problem. It’s _gotta_ be that all this shit is just getting old and it’s all choosing this summer to fritz, if you want my honest opinion.”

“Uh huh,” Dean nodded along like he agreed. Sounded like a poltergeist, if she wanted _his_ honest opinion. “One last question - and this is just out of curiosity now,” he laughed and she seemed charmed. “The haunted house exhibit - do you guys get anyone emptying __real__  ashes out onto the set?”

Katie laughed.

“I’ve heard rumors a couple people have been caught doing that in the past fifteen years or so, but like… no. That’s not normal here. They usually save it for Haunted Mansion in Disney World or something,” she grinned and Dean suppressed his disappointment.

Would’ve been too easy, wouldn’t it?

Just as Dean was about to bid farewell to Katie, another staff member - name tag said 'Valerie' - strolled up the empty line.

“Hey Katie you’re done here soon, yeah?” she leaned over the counter and glanced at Dean, who smiled amicably.

“Five minutes and this ride’s closed. Actually, Val - this is Dean. He’s a paramedic that’s been working the park with the heat wave and everything.”

“Oh yeah! Hey, hi,” she greeted, dropping small heat pads onto the counter and shaking his hand with surprisingly warm hands.

“Hey. Smart,” he added, pointed at the pocket-warmers she was gathering back into her pockets.

“Thanks,” she shrugged.

“Dean was asking about all the problems with the rides recently.”

“Oh! God, yeah. You wanna hear the newest weirdest theory we came up with?”

Valerie gave a dramatic pause, and Dean nodded and leaned in with Katie.

“I was talking to Dylan - his ride broke, right? Then mine did today. Katie, you got one yet?”

Katie shook her head.

“Okay, but have you seen that weird, super-tall dude around the park?”

Dean blinked, surprised.

“Backpack, shaggy hair, looks miserable-?”

“Yes!” Katie and Valerie laughed.

“So,” Valerie continued, “as far as we can tell, he’s been on every ride that’s gone bonkers so far.”

“Okay, that’s really weird,” Katie under-toned and Dean couldn’t disagree.

“Is he with people?” Dean asked.

Val made a face and shook her head.

“I have no idea what he’s doing here.”

“-and he’s been here three days in a row, now? Including today?” Dean pressed.

“Yeah-”

“Y’know, we should really flag him,” Katie suggested. “That’s weird to come here three days in a row without friends and stuff…”

“Yeah, ‘specially if he’s cursed and fucking up the rides for everybody,” Valerie laughed.

“Is he still here? Maybe I can talk to him,” Dean suggested.

“That’s super sweet,” Valerie sing-songed, clearly taken by Dean. Katie rolled her eyes and answered him.

“I think he might be. I don’t know - Val, do you know when he normally leaves?”

“No, I don’t keep tabs on the guy,” she replied with a shrug.

“Okay. Thanks, girls,” Dean smiled and begged off.

Dean didn’t find the kid that night, but he found him around ten in the morning the next day after a ride had short-circuited and kept about fifty people sitting on a coaster for thirty minutes. At that point, several other paramedics had been called in anticipation of any problems that may have arisen, so Dean took advantage of the back-up and sought after the kid.

…and it wasn’t hard to find him. As the hydraulics cranked the coaster over the station platform for everyone to be released and get out of the vehicle, Dean could spot shaggy hair, dangling legs with jeans cut at his ankle, and a long-sleeved, stained maroon shirt that was too big on him. He was pale as a ghost and sweating when the ride’s safety bars came up and he nearly tripped over himself to grab his backpack before rushing off the platform.

“Whoa-whoa-whoa,” Dean grabbed the kid’s arm as he tried to make his get-away and tightened it when the kid flinched. “Hey-it’s okay, it’s all right. I’m a paramedic,” Dean assured him, gesturing to his uniform.

“I’m fine. Thanks, no.” The kid’s voice trembled, backing up with barely concealed panic.

“Okay, no problem. Just want to check you out,” Dean insisted as the kid’s back hit the wall. “Why don’t you sit down for me, all right?” he added. He looked like he was about to collapse anyway. He tugged the kid's arm down, getting him to slide down to sit on the platform’s floor. He lowered his head dejectedly, greasy hair concealing his face. Dean crouched down in front of him, setting his med kit between them.

“All right, good. I’m Dean. What’s your name?” Dean asked as he took the kid’s wrist for a pulse. Waiting on the answer, Dean tilted his head so he could maybe see through his matted bangs to his eyes. He could hope this guy was cursed and causing all these accidents, but more likely this kid was just high as a kite.

“Sam,” the kid muttered, head down.

“Nice to meet you, Sam,” Dean replied softly. He pulled a small bottle of water out of his kit and handed it to him. “I want you to drink that - seems you’re probably dehydrated right now. Can you follow my finger?” He asked, because he really needed to see this kid’s eyes.

He took a few seconds to react but finally Sam looked up enough for Dean to get a clear picture of his face. Dean blinked with surprise - this kid looked haggard. Cheeks hollow, eyes bloodshot, watery and full of exhausted pain, and high up on his cheek it looked like he’d neglected to wipe off some barbecue sauce or something. 

“Good job,” Dean put his hand down - Sam was done tracking his finger long enough & didn't seem to be under the influence of anything. “I’ve seen you around the park recently, Sam. You got friends here?”

Sam licked his lips and shook his head, bangs falling over his face again as he went back to his determined stare at the floor.

“Anybody we can call to take you home, then?” Dean asked, moving so he could pull his cell phone.

“ _ _No__!” Sam cried, hands suddenly reaching out plaintively, eyes bright, “I’m not done here yet. I… I need to stay,” he trailed off into desperate attempts to catch his breath.

“Okay - okay. Just relax, Sam. Drink some water." Dean pulled a small bottle out of his kit and handed it over. He studied the kid as he did as he was told, taking sip after sip out of it.

“You homeless, Sam?” he asked finally, betraying nothing.

“No,” Sam sighed impatiently, and suddenly his whole posture and bearing changed into something more confident, some hidden power rippling out of him onto the surface. When he looked up at Dean, it was with __different__  eyes now - sharp and merciless. “I’m fine. I want to stay. You’ve checked me out - I hope you’re satisfied - and now I’d like to get on with my day if it’s all the same to you,” Sam bit out as he stood to his full height.

He stared down at Dean, daring him to challenge him.

Dean squinted his eyes up at the guy's face for a moment before backing down and stepping aside graciously.

“Sure yeah - okay,” he nodded, gesturing to the platform’s exit airily. “Have a good day, kid.”

Sam nodded, his mouth a thin line of severity, before he took off. He threw his backpack on and left the ride's platform, his strides wide and powerful - nothing like the demeanor he'd had when he'd gotten off the ride.

Dean sighed and looked after him, shaking his head.

* * *

Sam Wesson strode away from the paramedic with a sickeningly now-familiar sense of confusion and disorientation. He didn’t remember how he’d managed to escape the man’s scrutiny - he’d said he wasn’t homeless, and a split-second later he was walking determinedly away from the guy.  

He hoped against the odds that maybe that encounter had been enough to report him to the authorities. Have a policeman with a gun come to escort him off the premises - that way, he’d be able to pull the weapon out of their holster and just blow his brains out right then and there. It seemed like the only solution available at this point because he was starting to lose control and eventually he __was__  going to die, and if he didn’t make it happen sooner rather than later, a whole ride full of people were going to die along with him.  

Sam coughed into his sleeve as he sought after and found a quiet spot on a bench in the park. He finished his half-eaten sandwich from this morning, refilled his water bottle from a drinking fountain, and watched all the happy families and groups of teenagers passing him by. They talked about what sections of the park they wanted to go to next, which rides were better than others, begs to parents for treats or merchandise. In the background, sounds of roller coasters thundering overhead and bright playful music blasted. Sam closed his eyes and struggled to shut it all out - watching and listening for too long always threatened to trigger a panic attack, and his panic attacks always triggered his black-outs.

He stared at his dirty shoelaces and began to hum under his breath as he rocked back and forth to the rhythm, blocking out everything until he felt vaguely stable. He packed his food, hefted his backpack up, and started making his way through the park, searching for unpopular rides with short lines or small capacities that he could try. Because he knew that if he didn’t find __something__  again soon, he’d black-out and wake up on one of the larger ones, full of people he’d kill if he didn’t give every last inch of himself over to controlling his abilities.

That’s what had happened this morning, and he sure as hell couldn’t take a repeat.

He managed for hours - finding smaller rides he could control even as his anxiety kept ratcheting up. Any sense of peace or calm he tried to build for himself kept getting sucked out of him somehow, slowly turning him into a mess of nerves for even the tamest rides. It’d all been building for days now, too. He was going to hit a breaking point soon - give in, and let himself die along with anyone else unfortunate enough to be with him on the same ride when it’d happen.

Around three o’clock, he blacked out and woke up in an octagonal raft with a family of six that’d just been released for a turbulent white water rafting ride. Sam white-knuckled the hand-holds and squeezed his eyes shut, but not before he saw the two parents eyeing him cautiously. The three girls in the raft chattered and laughed delightedly, ignoring him, and that was fine for a few minutes until a huge splash of water drenched him and made him open his eyes to the sight of the youngest girl - couldn’t have been more than nine - about a foot in the air as the raft flew down an incline.

“Hold onto the raft!” He barked harshly, reaching out and grabbing her.

“Hey!” the mother shouted harshly, “you don’t touch her, you understand me?”

Sam stared at her, eyes wide and worried, then nodded.

“Okay, okay sorry,” he said, holding shaky hands up before another bump and he had to grip the raft’s straps again. The pit of fear and hopelessness was spreading inside him, and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus.

“Kid, are you okay?” the father asked, and Sam squeezed his eyes tighter and shook his head vehemently. He felt like something was swallowing him up - just like it always did on the ones he got onto while he was blacked out - and with a burst of pain in his chest, he opened his eyes and saw a huge wave rise up ahead of them, reaching a height that couldn’t possibly be normal. It kept gaining in mass and velocity until Sam _knew_ it was going to engulf their raft, cause injury or maybe death to one or more in this family unless he did something  _now._ One of the girls let go of the straps and slid into the center of the raft, grinning at her parents trying to say something to them, completely oblivious to the giant wave behind her looming over them all.

Sam didn’t think about what he did next. He just launched to the center of the raft, grabbed the girl by the back-straps of her overalls and slid her at her parents before jumping off the raft and into the oncoming wave.

The minute Sam hit the wall of the wave, he felt it collapse onto him furiously. It spun his body with excruciating force until he was completely disoriented with no idea what was up or down. He struggled to hold his breath under the onslaught, arms and legs spread wide looking for purchase of any kind until everything seemed to go dark. There was a brief moment of silence that felt unreal and Sam thought vaguely maybe this was it - he might finally be dying in peace - before the wave took its final hit against him, violently shoving his body so his head slammed against cement.

* * *

 Sam woke up in motion - walking through the park alongside a woman in a deputy’s uniform, and nearly collapsed.

“Hey whoa __whoa__  buddy, you all right? Not as good as you __thought__  you were, huh?” She smiled kindly as she pulled him up around his waist. He started shivering, and blithely put his arm around her shoulders.

“What… time is it?”

“Time for you to get a watch,” she quipped back, making him walk faster than he could handle right now. He stumbled but she didn’t give an inch.

“Where are we going?” he muttered, trying to get his bearings, even as weak as he was. They were passing a few rides he recognized - close to the park’s entrance. They were walking a back alley of the park though - employee-only pathways.

“Just taking you to get ya cleaned up, all right? Don’t you worry,” she answered authoritatively. Sam gave up asking questions, exhausted and traumatized. He eyed the gun in her holster but he was far to weak to go for it right now. He could barely walk and everything was feeling increasingly far away, like he was still underwater.

A thrumming pain at his temple had him reaching to touch his face. His hands came back red.

“What… happened?”

“Nothing, kiddo. Just a bop to the head after you went over. We’re just gonna check you out at the entrance station, make sure you’re good, and then let ya go. Standard procedure.”

Sam made a face. That didn’t really sound like standard procedure to him, but he probably had a concussion and heard her wrong or… something.

They reached the front entrance gate, the sheriff said something unintelligible into her radio, and she swirled Sam around - nearly knocking him off his feet - to face the open back-fender of an ambulance parked immediately along the wall of the park. The one paramedic tailgating the vehicle was familiar, but Sam couldn’t make the connection under the circumstances. The guy looked up, and Sam saw recognition spark.

“Sammy!” He called out, jovial. Too jovial for Sam’s injuries or state of mind… or even what was professional for an EMT. The guy walked up to him quickly and grabbed his arm on the other side. “I can call you ‘Sammy,’ can’t I? We’ve met twice, so that’s enough for a nickname in my books,” the guy rambled as Sam found himself getting dragged to the back of the vehicle. Sam didn’t understand what was going on - the paramedic was talking too fast and this didn’t seem above-board. He tried to dig his heels in against them.

“Oh c’mon Sam, we just gotta check you out. You got a spare pair of clothes in your backpack there?”

“I’ll look through it while you do your thing, Dean,” Jody interrupted, and Sam could barely get a word in edgewise. Dean hopped up into the vehicle and pulled Sam up into it, Jody pushing him from behind.

“My… it’s just my head…” Sam murmured as he sat down on the stretcher, overwhelmed. He could feel tears in his eyes, the man-handling and loud, grating voices of these two drilling into him.

“I know, buddy. Looks like you took a little knock to the head after quite a __splash__ ,” and on the last word, the paramedic squirted __acid__ on his face and neck, and Sam screamed with agony.

“Stop! __Stop__!” He sobbed, clutching his smoking face and neck, but not for long because the guy - in a surprising burst of strength - pushed him down onto the stretcher and started strapping his arms down. Sam tried fighting with his legs, only to discover the woman who’d brought him here had already strapped his ankles. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! You can kill me. Please kill me!” he cried, now twisting and wriggling his body around under the velcro. He looked down past his feet and saw the woman closing the doors to the ambulance and smacking on the interior twice. The engine started up, and tears streaked down Sam’s face.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry - please… please don’t…” Sam babbled, and stopped there because he had no idea what he didn’t want them to do. They could kill him. He’d be fine with that.

The man leaned over him, studying Sam’s face like he was nothing but a bug under a microscope. It was genuinely terrifying, and Sam couldn’t stop screwing his face up again and falling into soft sobs as the vehicle rocked back and forth in motion.

“Where… where are you taking me?” Sam rasped.  

The guy squinted with distaste and leaned in.

“We’ve got you in a Devil’s Trap-”

“What?! What is that?!” Sam cried, alarmed.

“Stop hiding,” the guy ordered and Sam choked a sob before he just… stopped. And grinned. He blinked, and the contrast of his normal vision darkened and sharpened.

Sam tried to scream, but nothing happened.

“Jig’s up, as they say,” Sam heard his own voice, smooth and devious. Sam screamed harder, doing his best to kick and fight against the clawing paralysis. “Ooo, the kid’s a fighter. I never let him listen in before, y’know.”

The man’s eyes widened at that and pursed his lips before holding up the acid he’d thrown on Sam earlier. Sam realized it was in a normal plastic water bottle - it couldn’t have been acid…

“You gonna tell us what’s up? Why you possessing this kid?”

Sam felt his body move around in the stretcher like he was enjoying the comfort of it.

“Honey, you could make me drink that whole bottle and I won’t tell you __shit__ ,” he ended viciously.

“Okay then,” the guy shot back, setting the water bottle down before quickly and efficiently strapping Sam’s head down to an immobilizer. Sam heard himself grunting and struggling under it, he heard the paramedic speaking Latin for just a moment before the thing inside him started screaming and swearing - threatening him and the woman both with unspeakable tortures that Sam had never even heard of before.

There was a tearing sensation inside him, like a dark weight was slowly ripping itself off - separating from him and letting him fill all the corners of his body and mind with his own soul. Felt like getting free of something he hadn’t even known he was imprisoned by. His body writhed and shrieked, and he saw black smoke emanating out from between his lips. It was horrifying to watch the smoke slither and puff out of him, a grotesque disease coming out of __him -__ his __body__.

His vocal chords gave one last ear-splitting screech of hate and anguish before the smoke swirled up as one mass above them in the small compartment of the ambulance and flying downward to the floor, disappearing from Sam’s scope of vision… which started to get narrower and narrower.

* * *

  

* * *

 

Dean and Jody shielded themselves as the demon sizzled its way through the floor of the ambulance on its merry way back to hell where it belonged. A couple beats of silence and it was almost comical how they looked at each other, then leaned over to look at the kid.

“Passed out cold,” Dean murmured on a sigh, “Pulse is steady.”

“Smelling salts?”

“Let’s wait on that,” Dean replied, feeling the kid’s clammy, hot forehead with a frown. “Let him rest,” he sat back, worrying his lip for a second. “Gotta get him out of these clothes and check him out anyway,” he sighed, reaching over for the medical shears.

Dean didn’t come across demons that often, but whenever he did - or whenever he’d heard from people who had - the story almost always ended with a long list of injuries the demon’s vessel had sustained. __After you exorcise a demon, don’t you take too long to gloat, kid__ , older hunters - friends of his mother’s - would say. __Minute that demon’s out of the poor son of a bitch it was possessing, they’re mortal now and odds are they need a hospital within ten minutes or they die.__    

“Mom!” he shouted, holding the shears out to Jody to get started and grabbing another pair for himself. “Almost there?”

“Five minutes!”

“All right,” Dean gruffed as he got started on the kid’s damp shirt while Jody cut through wet denim. Dean wished they could just take the kid to the hospital, but no story could check out about this and they still needed answers. Dean was extremely willing to accept this was just a demon getting its rocks off causing anarchy in the form of glitchy rides at an amusement park, but there was a major hole in that theory: for a demon, glitchy rides just weren’t __enough__. People would’ve died and the park would’ve shut down the very first day it’d walked in if it’d been acting of its own volition.

The kid’s t-shirt in tatters now, Dean pulled the pieces off. His stomach was too concave, was the first thing Dean noticed. It wasn’t a surprise though - this guy had come off far too thin to begin with. Likely malnourished. Heartbeat fine, blood pressure normal. Further physical examination rendered some healing bruises around his abdomen and kidneys that probably hurt like hell at the time, but otherwise smooth skin… until his eyes caught the edge of his back. Extensive scar tissue - undoubtedly fire. Dean winced and wondered how extensive the scarring went, but they weren’t ready to flip him on his back. Dean moved south and sniffed the air near the kid’s crotch, relieved to find he hadn’t evacuated during or after the exorcism.

Jody glanced at Dean and nodded, letting him know the jeans were cut up enough to pull away and out from under him. Dean grabbed a blanket and spread it out over the kid’s body before they went ahead. Again, save for a few bruises here and there, Sam seemed unharmed.

“Okay, time to wake him up,” Dean announced just as the ambulance slowed to a stop. Dean heard his mother get out and come around to knock on the back. Jody opened the door for her and she peeked in.

“Everything good?”

Dean shook his head.

“Gotta wake him up, ask a few questions before we get him up and out.”

“Okay. I’ll go book a room. Jody you wanna come with me - throw your weight around?”

Jody raised her eyebrows and looked at Dean. Dean shrugged.

“Might freak him out less if there’s less people here,” he offered. Jody sighed and nodded.

“Poor kid,” she muttered as she got up to go with Mary. Dean couldn’t disagree when he looked down at him.

The door shut, leaving the two of them alone, and Dean pulled some smelling salts out of his pocket. He exhaled heavily, bracing himself for the kid to reach consciousness again, and waved the smelling salts under his nose.

Sam flinched once, twice, then gasped as his eyes opened wide. Dean pulled the salts away quickly, throwing them to the ground in time to grab the kid’s flailing hands.

“Sam, __Sam!__  I need you to focus-”

“H-help!” his voice cracked, gripping onto Dean’s hands tight. “Help me! What the… __fuck-”__

“Shh, shh, Sam. You’re getting help. Help is on the way, kiddo. Relax. I need you to relax for me, okay?” Dean coaxed as he watched the kid slowly deflate into sobs.

“I… what’s happening to me…” Sam wept.

“Nothing that can’t be fixed. I promise. Sam? Sam, look into my eyes,” Dean ordered and the kid actually did. “I promise. You’re gonna be okay, all right? I just need you to talk to me.”

Sam gulped and blinked tears out of his eyes before nodding.

“Okay,” he agreed wetly.

“Good job. You’re a trooper. Just stay with me, okay?”

“’Kay,” Sam replied again, frightened eyes with the slightest sliver of hope now as they stayed fixed on Dean’s.

“Do you feel any pain or pressure along your back or neck?”

“No,” Sam whispered.

“Tingling or paralysis in any part of your body? Try moving just a little bit - feet first, then legs…” Dean walked Sam through the check, thanking God every time Sam reported full control and sensation. His most obvious issue was a headache from the knock to his head from the raft ride. Sam had calmed down some by virtue of the clinical question and answer routine, and at one point almost had Dean laughing when he made a face and asked why he was naked as it dawned on him.

“Your clothes were wet and we had to check you out after you fell unconscious,” Dean answered vaguely, not willing to share just yet that sometimes demons damaged their vessels so an exorcism could leave them with only minutes to live. He suspected that’d be information overload.

“Okay,” Sam breathed.

“Okay, so… I’m gonna take this neck brace off of you. Don’t move fast or anything. Just stay still, okay?”

Sam swallowed and nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, but Dean noticed he held his breath as he reached over to pull the contraption off.

“Breathe, Sam,” Dean whispered kindly and heard the kid exhale. “Okay… and… there we go,” he said, pulling back. “Slow movements now, how’s it feel?”

“Fine,” Sam replied, moving his head and neck slowly on the stretcher, and Dean couldn’t pick up on any signs of pain.

“Okay, you can sit up if you want,” Dean suggested, reaching out to help. Sam flinched. “I’m not gonna hurt you, kiddo,” Dean assured, gentle as he’d ever been in his life in holding the kid’s forearms for stability as he rose up to sit.

Oddly, as much as Sam had flinched when Dean reached out, he kept holding onto Dean tightly once he was up. Dean gave him a reassuring squeeze before letting go and reaching into his duffel on the floor. On his way down, he sneaked a glance at the kid’s back and it took some work to keep a poker face at the sight of so much scar tissue. It was red and raised, too. Recent - within the past couple years at most.  

“Here’s a shirt,” Dean offered, laying it down over Sam’s lap before digging around again. “And to get warmer…” he pulled out an old ratty University of Texas sweatshirt.

“We’re…” Sam paused to get his head through the hole of the shirt, “not at a hospital.” It was clearly a statement, not a question, and Dean was rather relieved to hear acceptance in the kid’s tone.

“No, no we’re in a motel parking lot.”

“What motel?” Sam asked, donning the sweatshirt.

“Probably Seabreeze,” Dean said after thinking a second. Mom always seemed to go for Seabreeze.

“That’s kinda close to mine, I think,” Sam sniffed and looked around at the floor. “My backpack-?”

“At the foot,” Dean gestured.

“My key’s in there. I can… I don’t know,” he said, exhausted. “Go… home. Or. Something,” he stopped, blinking at nothing in particular, clearly at a loss.

Dean tilted his head with concern, interest and compassion compelling him to reach for the kid’s hand.

“Sam-?” and the kid looked at him, that haggard, haunted look the same as it had been earlier this morning. It struck Dean just the same as it did before too. “You’ve been possessed by a demon for the past four days… at least,” Dean said as slowly and softly as possible, letting the kid lose his composure under the words.

“Longer, I think…” Sam laughed bitterly through tears. Dean winced and pressed his hand along Sam’s shoulder as he hunched over, “and more than that…” he sniffed, wiping his eyes and nose.

“How old are you?” Dean asked quietly.

“Um,” Sam wiped his eyes clearer, “I’m… I’m twenty.”

“Where’s your family?”

“They’re uh…” Sam swallowed and leaned back. He let out a huff as he shook his head, “they’re not an option.” His eyes traveled around the interior of the ambulance, agitated and even defiant when they landed back on Dean.

“Okay,” Dean replied lightly, “I hear ya.”

Someone knocked on the back of the ambulance and Sam jumped.

“It’s okay!” Dean was quick to reassure while Mary’s voice could be heard outside.

“-can we come in?”

Dean unlatched the door, keeping his palm up for Sam letting him know it’d be fine.

“Sam, I want you to meet my mother, Mary Winchester.”

Mary took two seconds to look at the kid and Dean could tell she immediately made the right call to stay outside. She broke into a kind smile.

“Hi Sam. It’s good to meet you. My son Dean here is gonna help you out, all right? Anything you need, he’s gonna make it happen-”

“-wait, what about you?” Dean interrupted.

“You’re on your own, kiddo. Just got a call that can’t wait,” she explained cryptically. “I’ll be able to handle it on my own, but… yeah, sorry sweetie,” she shrugged, clearly not that sorry, but Dean took it in stride.

“All right, whatever. You need the ambulance?”

“Well, we gotta get it outta the parking lot at the very least,” Mary said, turning to look around outside as she blew hair away from her face. She looked back at her son. “Jody already got picked up by a patrol - she’ll be by with your car soon. We got you the room right over here,” she gestured to a door not twenty feet away. “I warded it. The usual, y’know,” she drawled, lazy, like the most casual thing in the world. Dean shot a furtive, worried glance at Sam, but the kid still just seemed dazed.  

“Okay, so… Sam.”

Sam looked at him blankly.

“What do you say? Can we duck into the motel room? I’ll take you to yours as soon as Jody brings my car around,” Dean lied.

“Won’t be more than ten, fifteen minutes tops now, honey,” Mary added, looking at her watch and playing along with the lie effortlessly. She knew as well as Dean this hunt wasn’t over.

“Um,” Sam hedged, clearly disgruntled, “okay, I think…”

Sam started to get up, then sat back down.

“My… jeans? Can I… put them back on?”

“Oh, sure. But no, we had to cut the jeans off you. I got sweats, though,” Dean explained. Sam just nodded dumbly and took the proffered sweatpants, pulling them on under the blanket.

They got Sam out of the ambulance, Mary and Dean on either side of him holding him up, murmuring encouragement. He seemed okay. Not much disorientation or stumbling, just some weakness borne from exhaustion as they trudged their way twenty feet to the motel room door. As they got inside, it went unspoken Dean and Mary got Sam into the bed farthest from the door.

When they sat Sam down, the kid just kind of stayed there, staring at nothing ahead of him. Mary took the opportunity to bow out.

“Okay, you good?” she checked, turning to Dean as they both stood in front of their seated, shocky victim.

“Yeah, yeah, go,” Dean waved. She grinned and started backing away.

“You keep him safe, now - warm, fed-”

“Oh my god, you wanna Mom him and __I’ll__  take __your__  case?” Dean challenged.

“ _ _Hell__  no.” Mary winked, and disappeared out the door. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Didn’t think so,” he murmured, turning to look at the kid again.

It was awkward to admit, but Dean actually __wouldn’t__  prefer to go on his mom’s case now. He’d tracked this kid down, abducted him, exorcised a demon out of him, and now? So shoot him if __maybe__  he was a __little__  attached to seeing him through, now. Get his story and help him out of whatever hellish situation he’d found himself in, because his eyes were enough to tell him it was bad. Worse than most, and he’d been hunting with his mom - saving people just like this kid - for a __very__  long time, but none of them had eyes like Sam’s.

* * *

Sam’s hands were still shaking, his body still cold. He could barely keep his guard up, but he had to try. He was alone in a motel room with a strange guy and… it was scary. Anything could happen, and Sam wasn’t ready to let it.

“Are you really a paramedic?” Sam asked suddenly. The guy leaned forward and Sam realized he’d sat down on the bed opposite him.

“Yep,” he replied easily, nodding. He pulled his wallet out of his uniform and threw it over so it’d land next to Sam. Sam tentatively picked it up and looked through it as Dean reeled out his own information. “Dean Winchester, Emergency Medical Technician. Proud owner of a 1967 Impala. I live in an apartment about half an hour from here, but we thought maybe it’d be…” Dean paused, scrutinizing Sam, “weird… if we took you to someone’s actual home.”

Sam swallowed and nodded, gently closing the wallet and setting it back down beside him.

“Your turn-?” Dean prodded carefully.

Sam looked up at Dean, wary and nervous. He hadn’t told anyone about anything since the fire. He wasn’t sure if he even could, now that it’d been so long.

“Just the basics, kiddo. Full name?”

Sam grimaced. He didn’t even want to give __that__.

“Sam… Francis,” he half-lied. It was his middle name. He saw Dean hide a smirk, like ‘Francis’ was a name to mock.

“You like Sam or Francis better?”

“Sam… I… like Sam better,” he replied stiltedly, not sure if this was a trick question or not.

“Okay, Sam,” acknowledged calmly, “so where you from?”

“Kansas.”

“Great band. So, Sam Francis from… Kansas,” and despite everything, Sam ticked just the slightest smile, “how’d you find your way here?”

At that, Sam felt all his defense mechanisms lock back into place. He frowned, jaw locked, and shook his head with disdain. No, no he wasn’t going to talk about it.

“Hey - Sam. It’s okay, man. You don’t have to tell me now.”

Sam rubbed his eyes and sighed as he looked around the room, a little more clear-headed now.

“When’s your car coming? Shouldn’t it be time? I need my stuff and… I wanna get outta here-”

“Okay, okay wait a second. Sam-” Dean put his hands up, but as Sam made to stand up, Dean came towards him.

“Don’t-!” Sam yelled and Dean froze.

“Sam, my car’s not here yet. Please, sit back down and I’ll level with you. I promise. Just… please. __Please__ ,” he added with so much sincerity that Sam relented.

Sam stared at the guy - he couldn’t be much older than him. Probably mid-twentires, around his brother’s - Michael’s - age. Sam suppressed a shiver. Dean didn’t look or act anything like his brother, so at least there was that.

Sam sighed as he sat back down and clasped his hands together, stressed. Dean mimicked him, only his body language was open, engaged and directed towards Sam.

“Okay, so I’m an EMT, right? But… I’m also a hunter. I hunt… bad things. Like the demon that was in you - the demon we pulled out of you. That was an exorcism.”

Sam’s brows furrowed, deep in thought over the implications of what Dean was telling him.

“I grew up learning about these things, fighting them, killing them. Saving innocent people,” Dean paused, “innocent people like you,” he added and Sam couldn’t help his own expression of disgust.

“Oh…kay we’ll talk about __that__  later,” Dean stage-whispered and before Sam could explain, he kept going, “but Sam, we know about these things. We know a lot about a lot of them,” he stopped, realizing he was getting somewhat inarticulate here. He’d never really given someone ‘the talk’ before - usually his mom did it. “Look, bottom line: we can help you, Sam. __I__  can help you… if you give me a chance.”

Sam’s eyes had gradually squinted more and more through Dean’s little speech. Inwardly, Sam was conflicted as hell, fighting between his logic and emotions at this offer.

Sam couldn’t deny how desperately he was looking for something - or someone, as it turned out - that would help him like this, but he’d quickly learned inside the past year that even on the rare occasions opportunities like these presented themselves, they always came with a price.

“What do you want?” Sam asked darkly, looking up through his bangs at the guy. Dean was still sitting casually, looking unassuming as ever.

“I want you to tell me what’s happened to you, because I don’t think that demon was the end of… this,” Dean finished lamely.

“Why?”

Dean seemed to size Sam up. Sam figured whatever he saw met his standards because he went ahead with surprisingly blunt honesty.

“Because whatever that demon was doing with you, it was on a leash. If a demon had walked you into Coaster Park, it would’ve just killed shitloads of people and high-tailed it outta there for the next one. Instead it kept you around the place. It even let you surface from time to time. And that’s… not normal for a demon, Sam.”

Sam blinked and realized his eyes had gotten watery. Dean didn’t know how close to the truth he was, and it felt like a blade through his defenses. Luckily, not all of them.

“That’s great and all, but what do you __want__  from me,” Sam gritted out.

Dean made a face, annoyed, and shook his head.

“To… talk? I don’t understa-” and then Dean stopped at the look on Sam’s face. “Whoa, no-no-no. No no no no no,” he stood up and backed off. “Not that. Not anything like that. __Dude,__ ” Dean added with a comically strange mix of disgust and compassion. “ _ _No__.”

Sam watched Dean, laying on the skepticism even though he was inwardly pretty sure the guy’s reaction was genuine. It was amusing to see the guy squirm anyway.

“Look, um… I’m gonna go get us some food. You… take a shower. Get warm and… yeah. Okay bye,” Dean finished quickly and practically ran out the door.

Sam leaned forward and put his head in his hands.

For the first time in months, he let out a single genuine huff of laughter.

* * *

 Sam stood where he always stood in the beginning. The burnt-out husk of the apartment he’d had with Jessica. Her charred skeleton lay on the brittle, ashy remnants of their bed. Dust and ash mites floated in the moonlight. Everything was dead silent, and every night he came here, he wished the same thing: to be dead in this moment with her.

“Aw, Sam… tsk tsk tsk,” a voice rasped out. Yellow eyes like headlights opened in a dark corner, and Sam turned to face it despite the overwhelming dread that always came over him at the sight. “You know it’s not true. You’ve got to __save__  those people, Sam!” The creature mocked, then fell into its own raspy chuckles. Sam clenched his jaw, refusing to say anything. He was too familiar with this creature by now - knew enough how to let things slide and when to push for answers.

The yellow-eyed creature had come to Sam in a dream after the fire in Palo Alto. It told him it was a friend, and asked if Sam sought redemption for ignoring his premonitions of the fire that’d stolen Jessica from him. Sam had said ‘yes’ and then he’d been taken-

Sam startled, his recollection of his first dream and the current one meshing together. He stood in the middle of Coaster Park, only it’d been long since abandoned. Broken, rusty metal struts, gears, cars and carts strewn around. Graffiti, needles and broken bottles on the ground, an eerie wind howling through the dilapidated buildings and boardwalks. Nature was taking over, growing in between pavement cracks, encroaching over the smaller ramps and pathways, ivy climbing up the higher structures. It smelled swampy, with crickets trilling out in the distance.

The first time Sam had been taken here, Yellow Eyes had said this was the park’s future due to a ride crashing; over thirty people had been killed, and their ghosts now walked the park. It would go down as the worst roller coaster disaster in world history. And Sam could be there to stop it.

“Pray tell, what did you do to my daughter?” Yellow Eyes crooned, pulling Sam back to the present. The creature was cloaked in black, leaning against a large rusted, chipped pipe that used to spray kids with cool mist when they walked underneath. Sam made a face.

“Your daughter?”

“Mm,” it drawled. Sam blinked and shook his head, trying to focus. “Sam,” Yellow Eyes snapped and flames licked down Sam’s spine, causing him to cry out and fall to his knees in agony.

The creature snapped again and it was gone, leaving Sam gasping under the lingering sensations. “Pay attention,” the creature stepped up and grabbed his chin so Sam was forced to look into its disgusting, sallow eyes. “Did you exorcise her?”

Sam’s expression went from terrified to a wide grin, eyes lit up.

“Yeah,” he replied slowly, like he was savoring it.

Instead of the reaction Sam thought he’d get out of the creature about exorcising its ‘daughter,’ it a smile spread across its split, shadowed face.

“Very good, boy.”

* * *

* * *

 

Dean hadn’t been gone long - he’d met Jody outside, she’d accompanied him to the diner across the street, he ordered take-out, and when he returned to the motel, he felt better.

Sort of.

When he got back to thinking about Sam, maybe not that much better.

The kid was sprawled out on his bed asleep. He had wet hair so he’d taken a shower, so that was good.  Dean glanced at the clock: only half past five. He wondered if Sam was going to sleep the whole night through. If he did… well. Dean shrugged to himself and got comfortable on his own bed, setting the food out and helping himself while he watched TV with the volume low.

He was savoring the taste of cheese fries a few minutes later when Sam jack-knifed in bed with an odd gurgling sound, making Dean jump with surprise.

“Hey, Sam. Sam!” Dean called. Sam went still, his face to the wall. Dean just froze and listened for a further twenty seconds, thinking if it happened again, he’d throw his pillow at him… because he sure as shit didn’t want to wake the kid up hovering over him in bed after their last conversation.

Dean had settled himself once more against the pillows when Sam jerked into a writhing mess, letting out a choked scream.

“Sam! __Sam,__ can you hear me? Wake up!” he shouted as he rushed over and pushed Sam’s shoulders flat on the bed. The kid’s face was red, expression tortured. “C’mon, kid, __wake up!__ ” Dean shouted. He made a double-take at a glass of water on the bedside table and grabbed it.

“Sam!” Dean yelled as he splashed the water at him. Sam’s eyes flew open - fear and pain clearly blinding him to reality - and Dean found himself getting launched by an invisible force so strong that it body-slammed him against the wall before he crumpled to the floor.   

Silence - save for Sam’s heavy breath - reigned for several seconds after that while Dean tried to gain his bearings again. Finally, he let out what was probably the most pathetic groan he’d ever uttered. It took him a few more seconds for his rattled brain to realize what’d just happened. Cradling his head, he moved slowly to sit up against the wall and look at Sam.

Sam was sitting up, ramrod straight, eyes wide and panicked but __focused__. Focused on Dean, as a matter of fact. Dean was gathering his wits enough to know he was blocking the only easy exit out of the room, which was probably halfway why the kid looked so freaked: he was basically caged, and if Dean moved away, there was no doubt in his mind Sam would bolt.

Dean didn’t move. Instead, he sighed and looked down to feel the rising bump on the back of his head.

“So,” he dragged out, lazily. “Telekinesis, huh?”

Sam pursed his lips and reared back in posture as Dean got to his feet and approached his bed across from Sam’s. He paid no attention to the kid’s reactions: the time for reassuring him was over now, really. Any further gentle treatment would seem rather suspicious considering Sam had just knocked him into a friggin’ wall.

He sat down on the foot of his bed and rubbed his chin, mulling things over as he stared at nothing in particular.  

“Sorry,” Sam suddenly spoke up, but it was barely a whisper. Dean raised his eyebrows and looked at him. Judging by the kid’s eyes, it was a genuine apology.

“Psh,” Dean waved comically. “Happens all the time.”

Dean spotted the tiniest, most fleeting smile he’d ever seen anyone give in Sam, and called it a win.

“So, Sam,” Dean announced and Sam’s expression was back to guilt, “spill.”

Sam considered, his palms rubbing the bedspread with anxiety. Dean felt for him.

“I’ll spill when you take me back to my room where I can get my stuff,” Sam countered as he stared at the floor. When he was done talking, he looked up at Dean with hard, determined eyes - the soft guilt he’d had in them before buried - and Dean appreciated the kid’s spine. He felt for him, but not enough to wait.

 “Nice try, but let me remind you that you just mind-slammed me into that wall over there,” Dean pointed behind him, then gazed pointedly at Sam. That soft guilt came back in full force and Dean sighed. “Sam… you wanna tell me what’s going on. Right now. No delay,” he ordered gently, watching Sam deflate.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

 

—

 

Sam didn’t know where to start, but he did his best. A little over a year ago, he’d had everything. He’d escaped his father and brother in Kansas through a scholarship to Stanford. The campus was amazing, and he’d quickly taken to it: navigating the academic rigor and social spheres pretty well. He’d found that even if he tended to emphasize the former over the latter, so did many other students. A small percent of those students became his friends. Then, he’d fallen in love. Jess and him moved in together. He’d been shopping for rings to propose.

He knew they were young to get married but Sam didn’t feel young. Not after growing up with the family he’d had. Sam knew exactly what he wanted out of life, and he knew exactly what he was building towards. It was shortly before they’d moved in together that he’d realized he wanted Jessica with him for the rest of his life.

Then the nightmares about Jessica dying in the fire. Then Jessica dying in the fire.

The grief and what felt like insanity swallowing him up as he stared at the coffin lowering into the ground, his eyes as dead as she was. Her parents were kind to him at the funeral, but Sam had always known they’d thought Jess deserved someone better, so he hadn’t lingered.

Sam slept in a spare bedroom in Brady’s off-campus apartment. He tried to get it together enough to go shopping for clothes and succeeded… vaguely. He stopped going to classes. Stopped working his job at the university bookstore. He slept a lot.

It was during his sleeping hours that the yellow-eyed creature had appeared to him first - probably a demon.  

“-you think it’s a demon?” Dean interrupted for the first time in awhile, and Sam stopped short, jarred.

“Um. Yeah… the dream I just had. It called the demon you exorcised out of me its… daughter,” Sam replied with disgust. Dean mimicked the look, but switched over to thoughtful a second later.

“Demons normally have black eyes. This might be a higher-level demon kind of thing…” Dean trailed off, clearly thinking to himself now. Sam just stared at him for more until he realized he wasn’t going to get it.

“Okay,” he shrugged, a little annoyed. “Anyway, it… it manipulated me. Its presence always felt… oily, just under the surface, you know?” Sam looked up and Dean nodded. “But.. I was so torn up, I wasn’t really paying attention to anything __except__  the surface. This thing in my dreams knew about my visions and it was offering me the opportunity to save people by paying attention to them instead of ignoring them. I could __make up__  for having let Jessica die by saving them… and I… I wanted to do it…”

“I would too,” Dean interjected and Sam’s glassy eyes widened with surprise. “What? I would. Sounds like an honorable path, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Sam huffed bitterly.

“How’d it turn on you?”

Sam counted off his fingers.

“First vision, I couldn’t get there in time to save anyone. Second and third visions, I got there in time just to witness the murders. Fourth vision, I had to go home-” Sam cut himself off and looked at Dean warily.  

Dean gestured for Sam to go on. Sam swallowed and nodded.

“Ah… I managed to help save a family. Mainly because I’d met another psychic who’d known what to do.”

“Aw, Sammy. Don’t sell yourself short like that,” Dean quipped suddenly. Sam made a face, baffled over how comfortable this guy seemed with a complete stranger like him. Sure enough, Sam’s expression prompted Dean into a small good-natured chuckle before going serious again, urging him to go on.

“Um… basically, I started to realize the yellow-eyed thingwas probably orchestrating my failures even though it’d promised to help me save these people. I started suspecting it awhile ago, but…” Sam trailed off and swallowed. He blinked his eyes clear and shook his head. “It wasn’t until I refused to go on another ‘mission’ - that’s what we called them: ‘missions’ - that it told me its real plan.”

“Which was?” Dean pressed.

Sam closed his eyes and braced himself. With this admission, he knew he was taking a risk. Dean apparently killed ‘bad things’ - __supernatural__  bad things. Sam was a combined psychic and telekinetic getting haunted by a demon that had ‘plans’ for him. If that wasn’t a ‘supernatural bad thing,’ then he didn’t know what was.

Bitterly, Sam figured that - at worst - Dean seemed like a good person. If he decided to kill Sam, he’d make it quick.

“His plan is to train me up so I’m exceptionally good with my powers,” Sam gusted out all at once.

Dean looked taken aback at first, then tilted his head and squinted his eyes.

“Why?”

“So I can drive with no hands,” Sam spat, “I don’t know, dude. It’s a demon, not a Bond villain.” Sam felt like he was at the end of his rope: either Dean would kill him or not, and he just wanted to get it over with at this point.

“Okay-okay-okay,” Dean waved his hands at Sam, licking his lips to hide a smirk. “You don’t have to be a bitch about it.”

Sam stared at him, stunned.

“Sam? Earth to Sam?”

Sam broke his impression of a statue to pinch his nose and let out a huff.

“Let me get this straight. I tell you a demon is talking to me trying to train me in my powers, and your reaction is to ask me why and call me a bitch?” Sam summarized.

Dean stared at him for a beat and then gave a single, definitive shrug.

“You haven’t killed anybody yet, right?”

“ _ _No__!”

“Cool,” Dean got up from his bed with gusto and started to pack up the take-out. “We’ve got a __lot__ more to talk about, kiddo, but let’s take five here and grab your stuff at the other motel.”

Sam stayed still, sitting on the bed and watching Dean move around. Dean finally stopped and looked at Sam before deflating.

“Why’re you looking at me like a kicked puppy? Get __up__ , Sam. Let’s go.”

Sam let out a pained sigh and got up.

“Dean, in my dream-?”

“Yeah?”

“The thing thinks __I__  exorcised the demon out somehow. Like… using my powers to do it. It doesn’t know about you.”

Dean shifted his weight and smirked.

“Keep it that way. Element of surprise and all that, right?” He suggested gamely.

Sam pursed his lips and shook his head.

“You’ve been amazing, Dean,” and at those words, Dean made an indignant face at him but Sam didn’t stop: “Thank you so much for everything. But… I can’t stay. With you, I mean. I don’t want to put you in danger.”

Dean just stared at him before slowly reaching his hand up to press against his heart.

“That was beautiful, Sammy. Really, you deserve an Oscar-”

“I’m serious-”

“Shut up,” Dean ordered and Sam actually did. “We’re getting in my car, getting your stuff, and we’re gonna figure this out together, you understand me?”

“But-”

“I do this as a __job__ , Sam. So does my mom. So does Jody, the cop you met. You gotta trust us, Sam,” Dean explained, this time genuinely heartfelt. “Trust me. I’ll have your back.”

Sam swallowed and nodded, brows furrowed with guilt and worry.

“Okay. But it’s hard to have anyone’s back if a demon’s coming to them in their dreams, man,” Sam muttered bitterly.

“What?” Dean grabbed Sam’s backpack and threw it to him. “Oh, that’s easy. You’ll stay over at my place - it’s warded better than this place. Guaranteed uninterrupted sleep,” Dean said offhandedly. At that, he opened the door and let himself out.

Sam blinked, shocked at the revelation that he might - after so long - get a full night’s sleep if Dean was right. He stumbled out into the parking lot after him.

“You’re serious? The sleep thing, I mean?”

Dean looked up over the roof of a gorgeous black muscle car and smiled.

“Yeah, Sam,” he replied kindly, then stepped back and framed the vision of his car with his arms. “What do you think of my car?”

“This is you? I mean, you keep her up?” Sam stumbled over his words, trying not to think about his family of car mechanics who’d be drooling right now, patting Dean on the back, offering him a beer and inviting him over for poker on Thursday.  

“’Course,” Dean replied before sliding inside and leaning over to unlock the passenger side. Sam shook off thoughts of his family and suddenly registered how Dean was sitting in the driver’s side door of his own car and Sam was on the other side looking in.

Sam had his backpack now and he hadn’t told Dean where he was staying; Dean had zero leverage on him, and if he really wanted to spare the man, he could just take off right now. Back to Cap’n-Something-or-Other’s Inn, pack up, and… do… something.

As much as it might be the noble thing to do, Sam couldn’t go through with it. Might be another sign of weakness, might not. It didn’t really matter anymore. He rubbed his eyes, gripped the door handle to wrench it open, threw his backpack into the seat well and climbed in before shutting the door.

After a few moments, when the car didn’t pull out like Sam was expecting, he looked over to find the man distracted behind the wheel, trying to untangle a piece of string with some kind of coin on it.

“I forgot about this,” he murmured. He got it free and put it up between them. “Here, put it on. Keeps demons from possessing you again.”

Sam raised an eyebrow and dropped it around his neck. While Dean leaned forward to start the car, Sam tried to see if his companion had one but to no avail.

“What about you?”

“Hm? Oh, I got a tattoo that does it,” Dean replied quickly, pushing his shirt down to show Sam a bit of it before he reversed out of the space.

“I should get that,” Sam mumbled. Dean shrugged as he made a turn out of the parking lot.

“You could, but the necklace will keep you safe for now." Sam looked down and fiddled with it. "And the wards back at the apartment when we get there. In the mean time, you should eat. You look way too scrawny," Dean finished.

"Okay. Thank you," he whispered reverently, suddenly overcome with emotion. He could feel his sinuses piercing, his lip trembling, so he kept his head down and made it look like he was still examining the charm. It was because he was experiencing a sense of safety he hadn't had since he'd been curled up with Jess in their apartment. Somehow, this guy - Dean Winchester - emanated this warmth and security. In everything he was doing for him and everything he said, it was all to put Sam at ease... and Sam couldn't have been more grateful for it. 

"Sam..." A hand pressed against his shoulder and Sam flinched, then relaxed into it when he turned and saw Dean's sympathetic expression. "You've got that face again." 

"Sorry," Sam laughed wetly, and wiped his face. "Just... it's a lot."

"Don't worry," Dean said, squeezing his shoulder before bringing his hand back to the wheel, "As long as I'm around, nothing bad is gonna happen to you, now."

Sam's eyes widened just a bit before breaking into the first genuine smile since everything had happened. He shifted and settled in the passenger seat, getting comfortable. They had work to do. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading - please feel free to comment/review if you can spare the time! ~ Alex


End file.
